


Confession

by Arisprite, username_goes_here



Series: Yuuko Ichihara’s Hitsuzen: Four Star Restaurant and Bar [1]
Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: "First" date, M/M, restaurant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/username_goes_here/pseuds/username_goes_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started when "that guy" started coming to the restaurant and requesting Watanuki's cooking, and it only got worse from there! Now, Doumeki's a server at the Hitsuzen, and Watanuki can't avoid the guy. Then, he goes and asks him out. </p>
<p>Well, what was he supposed to do now?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first in an extensive series me and Rémy (arisprite and username_goes_here) been fondly calling the Restaurant AU, in which everything is happy, dammit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession

It was after closing and Watanuki was pouring all the day’s frustrations into cleaning the restaurant kitchen. Then again, it really wasn’t the _day’s_ frustrations. The day, the week, the month, the four years he’d spent working at Yuuko’s damn restaurant…

And then there was _that guy_.

The guy whose goal it was to ruin his life, he was pretty sure. What with him being there and doing things and then not doing things and just generally being invasive and disruptive and inconsiderate towards Watanuki’s life.

Yes, ever since the day Doumeki first came to the restaurant, Watanuki’s life had just gotten steadily more terrible. He’d just come as a customer, but apparently the food was too good and he just kept coming back, and hey, fine, yes, Watanuki was a good cook, but there came a point, you know? May as well have been a stalker! And then they were introduced and Watanuki just hated him more and then Yuuko - that damn Yuuko! - had to go and give him a job! So now he saw him every day and everyone was so adamant that they were good friends and they should date and god it was annoying because the guy was just awful!

Then again…

Doumeki _did_ drive him home sometimes, when it was raining or that week or so that Watanuki had twisted his ankle or just if they got off at the same time and it was late. And he liked Watanuki’s cooking, so obviously he had good taste, though maybe too much of it. And he was nice to Himawari and he was efficient at his job.

But he was still terrible. With his stupid face. And his stupid hair. And his stupid apron that he’d stained on his first day and never bothered to wash out properly, like a complete dumbass.

God, why was this guy constantly on his mind?

Watanuki paused in his cleaning and snuck a peek at the guy through the kitchen door, and found that Doumeki was looking right at him. The pots he’d been holding clanged to the floor as Watanuki screeched and turned around quickly, throwing his hands in the air.

He collected the pots quickly, and dumped them back in the sink. He’d come in early and wash them tomorrow. His shoes squeaked on the tile floor as he ran as fast as he could out the back door of the kitchen.

Great. Doumeki had caught Watanuki looking at him and now it looked like Watanuki might possibly be _interested_ and Watanuki was definitely not interested!

So he resolved to be off quickly, but as he stared at his bike lock, he realized he’d forgotten his bag inside.

Suddenly, there was a sound from behind him. The door opening and closing.

Dammit.

Watanuki turned around with a scowl. _Doumeki_ was standing there, holding both his and Watanuki’s bags. He tossed Watanuki’s to him - which was rude! What if he’d had something important in there? - and Watanuki caught it, fumbling.

“Why didn’t you just come back and get it?” Doumeki asked, as Watanuki struggled with the pocket, trying to find his keys.

There was literally no excuse for it. What, was he going to pick the lock? No, he had no idea how to do that. Did he think he had the bag with him? No, obviously not. There was nothing to be said except-

“I JUST DIDN’T WANT TO SEE YOUR STUPID FACE AGAIN!” he yelled, looking up from the bag he was searching furiously.

“Hm,” was all Doumeki said as he put his hands in his pockets.

Watanuki found his keys finally, and pulled them out triumphantly, just in time to hear Doumeki’s next words.

“Do you want to do something on Friday night?”

Watanuki dropped his bag and stumbled on words.

“I- uh- wh-”

In fact, he stumbled so badly, he couldn’t even say them. How do you react to someone you hate and yell at regularly just, just asking you out!

Wait. The guy never said what for! He might have asked him out, yeah, but… he also could be asking… something else. Watanuki didn’t know what, but, but why did he immediately jump to a _date_?

“I like you,” Doumeki told him, and Watanuki hoped, prayed, he wasn’t blushing.

Blushing? Why would he be blushing?!

“I thought we could do something together,” Doumeki continued. “You don’t have to.”

Watanuki swallowed, not sure what to say to that.

“Friday,” Watanuki said slowly, “is my day off.”

Dammit dammit dammit now he’d just admitted he was free, not that that mattered, what with the schedules being posted publicly. And now that Doumeki knew Watanuki had the day off and nothing to do, Watanuki _had_ to agree.

That bastard.

Doumeki tilted his head, and there was silence for a long moment before he spoke again.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

~  
“You don’t even know where I - oh wait, yeah, you drive me home.” 

Watanuki was flustered, red faced in the dim light from the restaurant, and stumbling over his words. It was rather adorable. It had occurred to Doumeki, just minutes before, while he was finishing up the chores for the kitchen and getting ready to go home, and Doumeki had been casually watching as Watanuki did the same, that he’d really like to ask him out. 

It was a little unexpected. Yes, he liked the food he cooked, and it was always fun to torment him a little between tickets, and he’d taken up the habit of driving him home occasionally when they both closed at the same time...but did that really mean he wanted to date him? 

Then, Doumeki had thought how there had been and was no one else he’d just wanted to sit and watch, no one else he paid attention to. His roommates, his friends in the classes in his major, the other servers and people at work...they were passing faces, which he noticed, but didn’t devote much energy to. Watanuki was different. He’d work all day to make Watanuki yell, or smile (much more rarely). And, as Watanuki’s quick hands wiped down the stove, and Doumeki watched as his apron flipped around his hips, and his sharp voice called out to people in the kitchen to do various things as they were closing… Doumeki had had the thought that he’d better ask him, or someone else would. 

So, he did. And Watanuki had...accepted? It seemed like it, anyway. 

Watanuki, still blushing, turned around and unlocked his bike. Speaking of…

“Do you want a ride now?” Doumeki asked. It was dark out now, and though Watanuki rode back to his apartment just fine when Doumeki didn’t drive, he thought it might be rude to not offer a ride home to a guy he’d literally just asked out on a date. 

Watanuki popped his head up, and faced Doumeki, looking uncertain. 

“Ahhhh…” he hesitated, and then seemed to come to a decision. “God, fine,” he said, grabbing the padlock and chain and shoving it into his bag. “I don’t know where my helmet is anyways.” 

He grabbed his bike, and rolled it off, and Doumeki smirked, and bent to pick up the helmet that had been sitting just under the bike rack. 

“Well? Are you coming?” Watanuki yelled. “I can’t unlock your damn car!” 

Doumeki clicked the little button on his keyring, and ambled over with the helmet under his arm. Watanuki shoved the bike into the backseat, in a complicated angle that he’d figured out a while back when he’d started driving him, and then cleared Doumeki’s schoolwork off the front seat and sticking it under the bike in the back. It was all habitual by now, down to the scowl as he fumbled with the twisted seat belt. 

Doumeki got into the driver's seat, and plopped the helmet onto Watanuki's lap, before starting the car.

“I would have found it without your help,” Watanuki insisted, tossing the helmet into the backseat on top of the bike and Doumeki’s homework. 

The radio came on, whatever he'd been listening to before, something nondescript, and he waited to see what station Watanuki would pick tonight. He always found some fault or another in whatever Doumeki had playing (even if he left it to whatever Watanuki had picked the night before) and twisted the knob until he found something to his satisfaction. He'd heard all sorts of music; from classical symphonies, to rap, to old rock. Watanuki had spent one ride home even paused on a country music station with his finger hovering over the dial waiting to change it, but intrigued enough by the music to stay. It was always funny to watch, and Doumeki didn't mind the different music each night. It was like a little glimpse into Watanuki's brain, his likes and dislikes, and what interested him.

Tonight, he let the station play, though, and was looking out the window looking… well, he kind of always looked upset and grumpy. Unless he was cooking. Which, come to think of it, he was kind of hungry. He hadn’t eaten before his shift, and that was hours ago. He turned at the next intersection, and made a square to come around to the 24 hour grocery store, pulling into the parking lot before Watanuki realized. 

“Why are we at a grocery story?” Watanuki asked, frowning. “Oh god, I swear, if you expect me to cook for you tonight, I’m, I’m-” he paused, and then continued without Doumeki having to argue further. “Don’t you dare request anything ridiculous.”

Rather amused at how little work that was, as he hadn’t even been trying to get a free dinner, but he was definitely not complaining, Doumeki agreed and they both got out of the car. In the store, Doumeki followed Watanuki along the aisles, pushing the small cart as Watanuki went ahead, choosing items and dropping them into the basket. 

“You should make lasagna,” he said, deliberately choosing something complicated and delicious, in the hopes that Watanuki would either take it as a challenge and make it now, or he’d at least remember and make it in the near future. 

“I said nothing ridiculous!” Watanuki snapped. “Besides, do you really want to wait that long before you can eat? No! No, I thought not! You’re eating something simple! Like spaghetti. Or a, a frozen pizza.” 

Doumeki wrinkled his nose. He had frozen pizzas at his house, growing freeze burn. Watanuki saw the reaction, and threw his hands into the air. 

“Thought so! No more requests! Anything I deign to make you, you will eat!” he declared. The fact was quite true. Doumeki nodded though, and pushed the cart along demurely, while Watanuki picked out enough groceries to make both spaghetti and lasagna. Doumeki privately hoped he’d be invited over when that was prepared as well, since it had been his idea. When they reached the checkout stand, Doumeki paid quickly, before Watanuki could stop him, though he tried. 

“No! No no no, they’re my groceries, I can - augh.” Watanuki covered his face with his hands, apparently overcome with Doumeki’s kindness at purchasing the food. Or more likely frustrated beyond speech. Doumeki wanted to laugh, but he only smirked as he took the bags out of the store and to the car. Watanuki followed along behind him, grumbling about cooking this late, and this and that. It wasn’t even late, it was barely ten, since the restaurant wasn’t open so late on weekdays. Doumeki didn’t see a problem with a late dinner. 

He put the groceries on top of the homework he was supposed to do tomorrow morning before class. He’d probably be too tired to do his usual quality of work on it, if he stayed up much later than this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that much.  
~

“I’m just making this, and then you’re gone!” Watanuki yelled as they drove back to his apartment. “Then again… I do have leftover cupcakes from that party I ended up not being able to go to… and I’m starting to hate them…”

He looked up at Doumeki. Doumeki liked food. Doumeki could get rid of them.

“You go to school, right?” he asked, knowing the answer. “Do you have homework?” Though that last bit came out more as an accusation than an actual question.

Doumeki looked into the back seat quickly, then looked back at the road, thank god.

“I’m going to do it tomorrow,” he said.

“You have morning class!” Watanuki reminded him - he only knew because someone else had mentioned it, it’s not like he was actively paying attention to it or anything! “You were going to do that in the morning? What time were you going to get up, huh? No. No, bring it. I will not allow your gluttony to be your academic downfall!”

Doumeki sighed as they pulled into the parking lot. Watanuki considered telling him that his unit had a designated parking space, but Doumeki had won enough today.

“Fine,” Doumeki agreed as then parked.

Watanuki fumbled with the seatbelt again, and exited the car quickly, grabbing his helmet and the two bags of groceries, ignoring the bike for now.

“I’ll get that later,” he said pointedly, and quickly ran to his apartment, as it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember if he’d tidied up before he left for work. He generally did, of course, but what if he’d forgotten?

So what? So what if he forgot! It was just _Doumeki_.

But really, what if he forgot?

He dropped the helmet as he unlocked and opened the door, kicking it inside and hanging onto the groceries instead, then inspected the damage.

Of which there was minimal. A bunch of glass bottles piled on his counter and he’d left the TV remote and a dvd in the middle of the floor next to a pillow, but that was it. Oh, thank god. Doumeki hadn’t ever been in Watanuki’s apartment before, not that Watanuki was trying to make a good impression - quite the contrary.

Wait.

Doumeki hadn’t been in his apartment before.

That bastard, he planned this.

~

Watanuki’s apartment was generic for the most part. Blank walls, furniture that had probably come with the place, and clean enough to hide most of his personally. Doumeki wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, and so didn’t know if this was a surprising fact, or not. If he’d come in to see impeccable and stylish decor, or a complete pigsty, he really didn’t think he’d have been surprised either way. There was a slight clutter on the counter, mail stacked on the table, and a Star Wars dvd was on the floor out of place.

Doumeki came further in, and over to the kitchen table, putting his pile of homework down, and watched as Watanuki began to put away the groceries he wasn’t going to use tonight. Then, he got out a cutting board, a knife and a pan, and these items were full of personality, at least that they didn’t look like they’d come with the apartment. They were, from what he could tell, higher end cookware, which only made sense, he supposed.

Doumeki came over and leaned on the end of the standing counter, while Watanuki began cutting up tomatoes. Doumeki watched him a for a second, and then picked up one of the soda bottles.

“Do you drink enough of these?”

Watanuki looked up, face curious and then morphing into angry.

“Oh, what, like _you_ don’t have a drink of preference?” he snapped, turning back to the cutting board. “It’s not _that_ weird to have soda bottles around, god, what is wrong with you?”

He pushed the tomatoes he’d cut aside, and then peeled a couple cloves of garlic. Doumeki’s stomach started to growl. It looked like Watanuki’s spaghetti still wasn’t as ‘simple’ as he’d claimed. 

Drinkwise, “I like lemonade,” he said, as Watanuki tossed the tomatoes, garlic and freshly cut onions into the pan and let them begin to simmer. It was different than the recipe at the restaurant, and as the smells began to rise up, Doumeki came closer to the stove and leaned in to appreciate it. 

“Don’t hover over me!” Watanuki yelled, waving him away. “I’m trying to cook. You won’t get any if you can’t let me just do my job! And, and I think I have some drink mix somewhere for lemonade…” He trailed off, his voice pondering. He was up and down, for sure, but Doumeki was beginning to think it was endearing. 

Doumeki stepped back, going over to the cupboard where Watanuki had put some of the groceries, he rummaged through it, moving boxes of seasonings, and cans of beans and tuna fish. There was a container of the cheap store brand lemonade, and Doumeki pulled it out and read the back. There were chemicals in there that even he didn't recognize. He made a face and stuck it back in the cupboard. Then he turned around, and watched Watanuki put the noodles into the boiling water.   
"Didn't you say you had cupcakes leftover?"

“What is your problem?” Watanuki was looking over, angry again. “Just going through other people’s stuff! That’s rude! You can’t just-” his voice abruptly dropped, probably remembering the neighbors. “ -you can’t just dig through other people’s cupboards. Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?” 

“Sorry,” Doumeki said. Watanuki looked a smidge too strained, so Doumeki decided to stop antagonizing him, and moved to sit at the table. He did have homework, after all. Watanuki seemed startled though, like he was expecting their spat to keep going. 

“Wait, what?” he sputtered, and then straightened up. “Well...good.” 

He put the lid on the pot of water, and then grabbed a covered plate, and set it in front of Doumeki, next to his homework, taking the cover off. It was the cupcakes, with yellow cake and white frosting. 

“They’re lemon,” Watanuki said. 

Doumeki picked one off the plate, and munched on it while he opened his text book. It was _really_ good. The frosting had little lemon peel bits in it, and the cake was still fluffy, even though Watanuki had said they were old. 

The homework he had to do was annoying, but time consuming, so Doumeki sighed, and licked the crumbs from his lips while he set himself to paying attention. It was for chemistry, equations he’d understood in class, and now had to repeat again and again. 

Watanuki had gotten distracted, looked like, and was now leaning over his shoulder. 

“Organic chemistry?” he asked. “I hated chemistry.” 

Doumeki finished off a problem and moved on to the next one. 

“I’m a chem minor. I have to do a lot of this.” 

Watanuki’s eyebrows went up behind his glasses. 

“Wow, wait, really?” He sounded impressed. Doumeki filed that away, and answered blandly. 

“Yeah.”

Watanuki frowned, and leaned against the counter, staring at Doumeki’s homework like he had to do it. Then, he moved back suddenly, and over to the fridge. 

“Do you want a soda? Seeing as my lemonade mix was so below your standards,” he asked, rummaging in the fridge. 

“That wasn’t real lemonade. And sure,” Doumeki said, not looking up but putting his hand out for a bottle. 

“You have no manners, I hope you know that,” Watanuki grumbled. “Grapefruit okay?” 

Grapefruit soda sounded… interesting. But, sure, if Watanuki liked it. 

“Yeah,” he said, taking the bottle and twisting off the top. It smelled okay, so he took a sip. It was all natural, more carbonated juice than soda, but tasty… he could see why Watanuki liked it. 

The food was nearly done, and smelled amazing, and so was Doumeki’s homework, so he buckled down to finish it before Watanuki drained the noodles. He dished it out as Doumeki worked, and then he looked up when Watanuki dropped the bowl in front of him. God, that looked good. This would be an upside to getting to know this guy better, he could tell already. 

“Here. Thank me. Bow down. Sing my praises,” he said, holding his own bowl, and going around the counter to sit on a stool. Doumeki finished his last equation with a flourish, and set the pencil down to pick up the fork. He tried it; the spaghetti noodles were the perfect consistency, but the sauce was the highlight - flavorful and chunky. 

“Why don’t you cook this at the restaurant?” he asked, through a mouthful. 

Watanuki paused in his chewing, and looked back at the stove. 

“I do, don’t I? I make spaghetti all the time…” he took another bite of food, and thought. “But, I usually go for a generic recipe at the restaurant. If I’m cooking just for me, I don’t really think about it like that.” 

Doumeki looked at the bowl, almost half done already. 

“It’s better this way,” Doumeki decided, taking another bite. 

~

Watanuki hoped and prayed he wasn’t blushing as he shoved another bite of the spaghetti into his mouth, then chewed and swallowed quickly.

“Well then. I. That. That wasn’t a bow, but I’ll take it,” he managed to get out. God, this guy was terrible.

There was a moment of silence that lasted too long for Watanuki’s sake, so he spoke up.

“Why are you even here?” he demanded.

“You invited me in,” Doumeki said, making it sound like he was some sort of vampire or something and-

“I did _not_! I did not invite you in! You’re the one who forced me to make you dinner and bring you up here!

He thought back on it.

Wait. Wait, did he?

Of course! Doumeki drove to the grocery store, so obviously…

Well, that technically could have meant a lot of things. Oh.

Doumeki smirked like the bastard he was. “What if I’d just needed eggs?”

“Well, obviously you didn’t or you would have bought some!”

“But I could have. You decided to make dinner.”

“No!” Watanuki protested. “You suggested dinner!”

“I did not,” Doumeki said, finishing up his spaghetti. “You brought it up. Not that I’m upset about that.”

“Making dinner for you at eleven at night was most certainly _not_ my idea!” Watanuki yelled back, though thinking about it… Doumeki was right. He _had_ brought it up. It wasn’t…

He was voluntarily making dinner for this asshole.

How did Doumeki do that?

Doumeki shook his head and looked amused, then set his bowl aside

Watanuki finished his bowl in another bite, then went around the counter again to dump it in the sink, grabbing Doumeki’s bowl on the way over.

“Next time, dinner is on you!” he blurted out, realizing the connotations a moment too late.

“What do you want to do on Friday?” Doumeki asked.

Oh, that’s right. Friday. Oh god.

Watanuki grabbed some tupperware and began scraping the leftovers into it, not looking at Doumeki as he spoke.

“I’m not picky,” he said awkwardly. “You’re the picky one.”

Doumeki sniffed and put his chin in his hand - who does that?

“What do you think about bowling?”

What, did the guy google search first date ideas?

Not a date! Not a date!

“I haven’t been in years,” Watanuki offered. “We could go bowling.” It was a highly un-romantic atmosphere and there was a lot of general competitiveness… It wasn’t the _worst_ idea.

“I know a place with good pretzels,” Doumeki said.

“Really?” Watanuki rummaged through his cupboard and grabbed a bag of marshmallows. “They’d better be good, or I’m blaming you,” he added, popping one into his mouth.

“Marshmallows? You like those?”

Watanuki looked down at his bag, then back up at Doumeki, confused. “Yes. They’re my favorite. You have a problem with that? I can eat whatever snack I like, it’s _my_ apartment, you know.”

“Marshmallows are good on s’mores,” Doumeki said, as if reciting a fact from an encyclopedia.

“They’re also good to eat,” Watanuki informed him, grabbing another and tossing it in his mouth. “Now that we’re done pointing out the obvious.” He rolled his eyes and sat at the counter again.

Doumeki put his hand out to catch one, and Watanuki scowled at him. First he demands (implies) dinner and now he was demanding marshmallows. Honestly, Watanuki didn’t understand how other people didn’t find this guy obnoxious and intrusive.

But Doumeki _had_ bought the groceries, so…

Watanuki threw a marshmallow at Doumeki.

“If you hate it, you can get out of my kitchen.”

Doumeki caught it and took a bite. He chewed it impassively and shrugged.

“It’s not bad, but it’s not good either,” he decided.

Watanuki shrugged as well. Some people just didn’t appreciate them.

“Chemistry,” he said suddenly, realizing he really didn’t know this guy very well, for all that they worked together and he drove him home sometimes. “You’re studying chemistry.”

Doumeki turned to him and blinked. “Yeah.”

“As a minor.”

“Yeah,” he repeated. So eloquent, this guy.

“What’s your major then?”

“History.”

“Oh. That’s a weird combination,” Watanuki decided, eating a third marshmallow.

“It’s interesting,” Doumeki said, opening his hand for another marshmallow.

“You didn’t even like them! Don’t ask for something you don’t like - eat a cupcake!” Watanuki told him with a frown.

“They grow on you,” Doumeki protested. “I want one.”

Watanuki threw it at him.

“Whatever.”

Doumeki caught it and ate it quickly.

“God, you’re annoying,” Watanuki said, then grabbed another marshmallow and twisted the bag closed. “And you’re here way too late. I had other plans you know!”

“What were you going to do?” asked Doumeki.

Watanuki tossed the bag into his cupboard and groaned.

“What does it matter to you, hm?” he asked. “If you must know, I was going to finish the movie I was watching, but _noooo_ you had to eat dinner - shut it! I know you didn’t say it but you implied heavily! - so I have to finish it tomorrow. So, now that you’ve imposed yourself into my evening more than you were supposed to and eaten my food and drank my soda, are you happy?”

Doumeki’s lip quirked - was that a frown or a smile or what? - and gathered his papers and books into his arms, then stood.

Wait, what?

“Oh.”

No, no, Watanuki was _not_ upset about the leaving company. He was just surprised that Doumeki would clear out that easily.

“Go home, dumbass,” he said, scowling and waving his hand in the general direction of the door.

“See you tomorrow,” Doumeki said, catching his eye.

Watanuki just glared back at him.


End file.
